


Sauced

by ABeckoningCat



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:24:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABeckoningCat/pseuds/ABeckoningCat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint encounters three drunk girls in a hotel elevator.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sauced

They stumbled onto the elevator in a tangle of six long legs, like one of Thor’s unlikely horses, and Clint cast a casual look up from his scrutiny of the marble floor tiles.  They were drunk — very drunk — and he was decidedly overgroomed in a charcoal suit and crisply starched shirt, his hair swept back in a way that Natasha had described as  _very Clark Gable_  before redoing the knot of his tie.  He also wasn’t carrying either bow or quiver, and he hoped that all these things combined meant that they might not recognize—

“Hey, you’re that guy!”

Haha. Nope.

He didn’t lift his chin, but merely stared at them from under the creases of his brow, blue hounddog eyes moving calmly from face to face.  The two on the end were tipsy, the one in the middle was completely and utterly sauced, and if not for the support of one friend under each arm she probably would have been face-down in a boneless sprawl.

Naturally, she was the one who recognized him.

“Which floor?”, he asked, nodding toward the double row of buttons.  Girl on the Left blinked at him fuzzily, as if she were trying to figure out what her friend saw, but couldn’t quite get it.

“Uhh… fourteen, please?”

Clint removed one hand from his pants pocket, leaning over to thumb the button, and the doors slid shut.

“You’re that guy,” Drunk Girl said again, more emphatically this time.

“Am I that guy?”

“Yyyyeaaah.  That guy.  You know?  The guy?”  She looked to both of her friends for help, but they eyed her and shook their heads.  It finally came to her, and she blurted, “Hawkeye, you’re Hawkeye, right?  Am I right?”

He flicked a look to the numbers, watching them climb ever so slowly, then back to her.

“Yeah, how about that.  I am that guy.”

“Oh man.  I love you.  I totally love you.  I see you on TV all the time.”

“Thanks.  I try to keep a low profile.”

“Yeah, but you’re hot.  You’re so, like… God… you’re so fucking hot.”

He was trying to be either flattered or slightly uncomfortable, but God was she drunk.  A small smile started to pull up one side of his mouth, and he was vaguely aware that the resemblance to Gable was probably only increasing exponentially.

“You’re really drunk,” he said.

“I’m  _really_  drunk,” she agreed, as if this was the most burdensome thing in the world but, hey, what can you do, right?

Clint consulted with each of her friends.

“How much has she had tonight?”

“One martini,” Girl on the Right replied, and not happily.  He looked impressed.

“ _One_  martini?”

“Yyyyyyeah,” Drunk Girl insisted, rolling a wobbly look to her friend.  “But it was like…  _a really big martini_.”

Her friend sighed.  “She’s kind of a lightweight.”

He puckered his bottom lip with a nod. “I’m getting that.”

Drunk Girl wasn’t through with him, however, neck loose as she swung her attention back to him.

“God you’re  _so_  hot.”

“I, uh… thanks.”

“ _So_  hot.  God.  If I… hey.  Hey, if I wasn’t married?  Oh my God.  I would do so many things to you.”  Here Clint’s brows vaulted high, the corners of his mouth trembling with a helpless, tight-lipped smile, but she just kept right on going.  “So many things.  And only, like, half of them would be with my _mhhff_ —-”

Girl on the Left was quick enough to cap a hand over the lower part of her face, refusing to let her finish that statement, but he was fairly sure the last part was supposed to be ‘mouth’.  Her friends looked at each other, assessing, and slowly released her again, letting her head sag forward in bleary exhaustion.

She finished, slurring and shaking her head for emphasis “…we would need so many paper towels.”

That time Clint snorted aloud, sudden enough that he pressed a hand under his nose to hide the hard quirk of his mouth.

_Ping._

Girl on the Right and Girl on the Left rolled their eyes as one in gratitude, starting to heft their friend in a stumbling, dragging walk through the doors as they opened.  Drunk Girl still lolled her head back in an effort to look at him, however, calling out, “Bye, Hawkeye, you’re really hot, okay?”

“G’night sweetheart,” he winked, kissing two fingers and flashing them at her in a wave before the doors rolled shut behind her.


End file.
